Back and Forth
by Amberthepirate
Summary: Steve Rogers has been taken by Hydra. They have big plans for him, but in order to do this they need him to become dependent on them, physically an emotionally. So, project REINCARNATION is a go. WARNINGS: kidnapping, infantilism, non con drug use, angst.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note:** dear god what have I done O_o okay, major warnings ahead for Infantilism, non con drug use, kidnapping, all that jazz. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The last thing Steve remembered before everything fading to black was an explosion, followed by a flash of white and an unpleasant high pitched ringing in his ears. Then there was nothingness.

While the serum had granted his the gift of heightened sight, hearing, coordination, cognitive functioning and strength, Steve was still only human and in a bright coloured suit was a clear target for enemy fire. The people who designed his suit clearly didn't know much about camouflage. That being said, Steve relied more on his wits when he was in the fray, making his brain click into soldier mode and kept on his toes. But the explosion had completely blindsided him. It wasn't a tact the villains the Avengers were currently fighting were using, this latest crew of nut-balls were prone to hand to hand combat, but for good measure had a few snipers in the buildings armed with trancs strong enough to knock about an elephant.

It had been going so well too.

They had secured the area, cornered the last few remaining bad guys, leaving them no room to send for back up or run away, then BOOM. Steve was knocked off his feet and sent flying into a concrete wall. He was out cold.

He must've awoken a few minutes later, because Steve dimly recalled being lifted with many but gentle hands then a soothing coolness filled his belly and he lost consciousness again.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_Nein, hat er nicht aufgewacht."_

Steve's heart pounded in his ears and he felt his stomach churn and writhe as he blinked into awareness. He was forced to immediately shut his eyes again as a bright light filled his vision, he grunted in pain. He tongue felt like it had swollen to the size of an apple, and was indeed making it difficult for the soldier to breathe through his mouth; his throat was like the Sahara. He also found that his mouth had been moving up and down of its own accord...as if he'd been sucking on something in his sleep.

Steve tried to move, but there was something off. He could flex his fingers and toes just fine, but his legs were a challenge, they felt too heavy for his body; he was bone tired. Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Steve realised he was lying on a soft warm surface; like a bed. Steve's mind reeled, was he in hospital? That wouldn't explain the weird drowsy feeling, like he'd been drugged, only the serum made impervious to poisons, alcohol and other narcotic substances.

Alarm bells began to ring when the soldier tried to lick his teeth, and found something hard and round in his moth stopping him from doing so. It was a gag of some sort, he tried to talk but his words were muffled. He forced his eyes to open fully so he could see where he was. Steve saw he was in a bed, but the bed was surrounded by wooden bars, a make shift cage but not nearly strong enough to hold him. He looked down at his hands and sure enough they'd been bound tightly with reinforced handcuffs.

Okay. So he'd been taken hostage.

The first thing to do was not to panic, but rather stay cool and assess the situation. As far as Steve could tell he was alone, in a small room with only this bed and a chest of draws opposite, the window had been blocked with bars. That made one escape route needlessly tricky. There was a door, it look like it was made of solid steel and had a ridiculous array of locks on it. If only he wasn't so hazy...he could get out of this.

Suddenly the bolt on the door creaked, and locks were unlocked. Steve waited. The door opened carefully and someone stepped into the room. It was a woman, blonde, and dressed in 1940s nurse's dress which was probably for Steve's benefit alone but that's not what stuck out the most, it was that she was _enormous. _

Steve's eyes went comically wide at the sight of her, she must've been 7 foot tall and she had thick muscles and legs despite a deceptively feminine frame. She looked like a Super Soldier in her own right; well that explains how they managed to carry him here, wherever here was. This was not normal, Steve thought, maybe these people had been trying to recreate the super soldier serum? She could have just been...big, it did happen, according to the Guinness book of world records people did grow to that size and larger but seeing her made dread unfurl in Steve's chest. Whoever he was dealing with were no amateurs, and it narrowed down the possibilities of who exactly had managed to kidnap Steve despite his strength. This was serious business.

The 'Nurse' flittered around the room humming to herself, her back to Steve. He watched her carefully, eyes never leaving her, she seemed disinterested in his presence but that could change at any moment. Then he heard the sound of glass bottles, and of liquid being poured, then she finally turned to face him; he leant on the bars of his bed and smiled condescendingly down at him; like a cat grinning at a mouse.

"Awake are we, mien kind?" She asked, her accent was heavily German was her English was impeccable.

Could be HYDRA? That would explain everything, they'd always wanted to re-create the serum, grow their own super army and take over, and by having Steve captive they had an unlimited supply of test subject material. They could have taken blood samples while he was knocked out, and he was able to sustain a heavier amount of blood loss than normal people, so they could take pints and pint from him and he'd still live; and be producing more...like a pig in a factory farm.

Steve started to pull at his restraints, the handcuffs were made of some sort of strong metal, not unlike the alloy of his shield, and he had a devil of a time even making a dent. They were connected via a longer chain to one of the bars, which, somewhat foolishly Steve thought, were made of wood. He could easily shatter the wood into splinters. But the move he moved his head began to swim his vision become wobbly, he was also completely sapped of energy. Perhaps that was the reason for the lack of restraints, he was too drugged to break free, and the handcuffs and 'cage' were just a precaution.

The nurse made a shushing type noise at him when she saw his struggling, and bent down to stroke his fringe with her long red fingernails; he jerked away from her.

She sighed then went over to the chest of drawers. "Fuss, fuss, fuss" she muttered. "I thought your paci would calm you down, but it looks like you need a nap yes?"

Steve frowned, paci? That wasn't a German word. It wasn't even a word Steve could recognise, was it short for something? Apparently he had it on her person and was meant to calm him down somehow. The way she said it implied that it was something childish, like a comfort object. He frowned and looked down at himself, his shield was gone, so was his pocket knife, pistol (which he rarely used) and they'd even stripped his of his uniform and redressed him in a soft cotton shirt and pants; a bit like Pyjamas really. The only other thing he had was...the gag. He tried to move it around with his tongue but the bulb part filled his mouth comfortably. As he grunted in frustration the plastic around his lips shifted and moved up and down. Wait a moment...

Steve tentatively sucked the thing and found the gag bobbed in a steady rhythm when he did so. Then it hit him.

They'd put a_ pacifier_ in his mouth; something for babies and toddlers.

Steve flushed and shook his head from side to side in a vain attempt to dislodge it, but inside he knew that it had been firmly tied on. He must've looked like a right idiot. His embarrassment aside, he looked around frantically to try work out what was happening here. Then another realization came to the soldier...he wasn't in a cage, he was in a _crib, _that's why the bars were made of wood.

She had called him kind...the German word for _child. _

The nurse was suddenly standing over Steve and he tensed as hands reached down to his face and untied the pacifier and lifted it away. He was momentarily relieved and let out a breath but before he could talk something else was being shoved into his mouth and he gulped in surprise.

It was a bottle. This was getting worse and worse.

Steve growled and thrashed as best he could but the nurse was strong as an ox and held him in place as milk filled his mouth. He gagged, It was like ordinary milk, it was thick and creamy and as he was forced to drink more and more he started to feel lethargic. It was drugged, of _course_ it was drugged.

He let out a stifled noise of annoyance but as his eyelids began to flutter closed he settled into a rhythm...suck...suck...suck. His stubbornness was strong but the drugs were stronger, and he gurgled around the bottle as he drank the last few gulps.

The bottle was then taken from his mouth and the nurse cooed at him and patted his belly, making him hiccup. The pacifier was then put back, he was too out of it to object and despite his efforts Steve drifted off.

The pacifier bounced gently in his mouth as he slept...suck...suck...suck.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nurse Fletcher watched with a satisfied smirk as the young man slept, the drugs had worked better than they'd hoped and now the Super Soldier was completely subdued. Face soft and lax, blonde hair falling over his eyes and his red, blue and white pacifier moving up and down in his mouth. Drool was coming out of the corners and she gently wiped it away with her thumb.

He looked even younger in person. Of course, stalking him and his little team had been a tedious exercise and a long winded one but it had been all worth it. They'd almost failed, the Avengers put up a great fight if it had not been for the gas leak all would have been lost.

He was a handsome little thing, with a beautiful jaw and big blue eyes that had look so uncertain, so bewildered before.

If the Doctor's estimates were correct, it wouldn't take long for him to fully succumb to this, they just needed a routine.

Nurse Fletcher gently reached into the crib and plucked the pacifier from the young man's mouth. He whimpered in his sleep and twitched unhappily, she then placed it back in, he made sighing noise and was quickly back to content sucking.

Yes, it would not take long.


	2. Chapter 2

They were trying to humiliate him.

That must've been the only reason for this, to force Steve into submission through sheer embarrassment and get what they wanted from him without a fight. To be honest it was working somewhat.

He was _Captain American_, a symbol of national pride and the backbone of his team...and he was bundled up in a crib with a pacifier. It would have to be seen to be believed, and Steve was still having a hard time processing it. He wasn't a proud man, but he was protective over his dignity. A soldier must keep a stoic expression in the face of danger, and must handle things with control and discipline.

Steve blinked at the ceiling of the room; it was dark save for a dim blueish light coming from a nearby nightlight. It reminded Steve vaguely of Tony Stark's arc reactor. The only other sound about from his heartbeat was a dull whirring noise coming from the air conditioning duct.

He closed his eyes tightly, he tried not to think of his friends, but it was difficult. He knew they'd be worried sick about him, especially after disappearing mid battle without a word. But he was comforted by the knowledge that they'd never rest until they found him and brought him home. He wouldn't be trapped here forever. Hulk could smash through that wall anytime now.

Steve grumbled into the pacifier that was tied tightly in his mouth. He hated the goddam thing. He could've dealt with used stinking socks being shoved in his mouth as a gag, being whipped until bleeding, being left to rot in a tiny dark cell, but this? This was ridiculous.

The fact that he'd been sucking the pacifier in his sleep made Steve wince with mortification and he bit down on it. He'd focused on his heartbeat instead...thump thump thump. A steady, constant beat which kept Steve grounded in reality and distracted him from the mouth full of plastic.

Steve didn't want to think about his...well his underwear thatwas something he'd much rather not think about. Secretly he was thankful that they seemed to be...dealing with that when he was knocked out. He curled up into a defensive ball, blocking out everything else and willing himself to sit tight even though all he wants to do is kick and scream.

There appeared to be more than one 'nurse' looking after Steve, if you could call it that. The first one he'd been introduced to was known as Fletcher, if her name badge was to be trusted. She was both frosty and calculating in nature, and was efficient in her duties. She had no time for messing around and kept Steve drugged up to the eyeballs with constant bottles of the milk-like substance, and she _always_ made sure he finished it all.

She was trying to prove a point, that she was in charge here not him, this was her domain. Her grip was unyielding as he lifted him over the bars of the bed and pushed the bottle into his mouth. Steve knew there was little point in fighting her, and the drugs would seen pass and he'd be awake again, but the sheer amount of feeding was absurd.

They weren't just drugging him then, they were clearing keeping him alive. For what purpose wasn't clear at this point.

Steve couldn't help himself, and he mumbled in displeasure as he was given the fourth bottle of the morning. The blonde woman remained unmoved and forced more of the liquid down his throat and into his already swollen stomach.

"Hush." Fletcher would say and prompt him to finish by stroking Steve's throat and tipping the bottle upwards. He would glare at her fiercely but ultimately would slip away into an oppressive drug induced stupor.

The second nurse was a red haired woman called Heinrich and unlike her counterpart she was Austrian. She was also far more talkative and strangely smiley and hyperactive. She'd coo and talk at Steve in baby nonsense, making him cringe both on the outside and on the inside. His embarrassment was hard to conceal in these moments.

"-and this little piggy went..." Heinrich cooed in a high pitched voice, jiggling the pacifier in Steve's mouth making him flush a deep shade of red.

"aaaaaaall the waaaay home!" she finished by tickling Steve's stomach and he tried to move away from her hands but the crib left him little if any room to escape. He hated it when she touched him, it made his skin crawl, and she reeked of wrongness. Both of the women do. How could they subject someone to this and not be mentally unstable? But of course, this was HYDRA.

What's there long term goal? He thought, tugging fruitlessly at the handcuffs, Why do they need me like this?

His answer came when the metal door was unlocked once again, Steve had been sleeping and he slowly was dragged back into the land of the living.

He cracked open an eye and saw, as he suspected, Fletcher enter the room. But then someone else followed; a man in a white coat. That caught Steve's attention and he shook his head to wake himself up.

They talked quietly in German, the drugs made everything muffled so Steve couldn't hear them. The man, an older guy with greying hair and glasses, knelt down beside the crib and peered at Steve. "Hello little one, did we sleep well?"

Steve remained expressionless.

The man chuckled at him. "Well. I'll introduce myself. I am Doctor Ackerman; I am top psychologist at HYDRA."

Steve frowned a little, HYDRA had psychologists? Really?

"I specialise in behavioural conditioning, but I also am well versed in childhood development." He smiled slightly. "I have been given a most important task, I am to re-educate the super soldier. I am too...gently bring him around to our way of thinking."

Steve tensed his jaw.

"In order for you to learn our lessons, you must forget what happened before. Start anew as it were." The Doctor's accent flowed elegantly off his tongue. "That is why you are here." He leaned a little closer to Steve and Steve suppressed a growl in his throat. "Now, don't be afraid, we don't want to hurt you. Quite the opposite..." His voice turned into a low, deadly whisper. "But make no mistake. If you misbehave, there will be consequences; for you and for your friends."

Steve blanched, that was low, threatening his teammates, his only source of companionship in an otherwise alien 21st century. He'd already lost so much, so many, he dreaded losing more. Steve felt rage boil in his gut and despite his better judgement he tugged at the handcuffs and kicked the end of the bed, grunting into the pacifier in frustration. They had not drugged him as much today, so he was lucid enough to hear everything the Doctor said; to heed his warning.

Despite that however, Steve's muscles were already weaker from 3 days of little movement and no solid food.

The Doctor tutted at him then gestured to Fletcher who proceeded to lift a struggling Steve from the crib. She held him firmly to her chest and the sudden height made Steve nauseous.

"I know, I know." Ackerman said softly "You want your bah-bah."

Steve tried to twist away from the approaching bottle; he couldn't let them drug him again. Now he knew what they were going to do, it made all the more desperate to escape. He thought about biting Fletcher, but the woman had a good grip on him and her large hands could've very well snapped his neck.

Finally the bottle was slipped between his lips. Steve coughed to try and force the mixture out of his mouth. Fletcher pinched his nose and held it so he couldn't breathe. After a few minutes and with Steve turning red and losing sensation in his fingers he had to take a gulp of air which proved to be his undoing.

The milk slowly poured down his throat and churned in his belly. He felt his body going limp and he blinked, fighting to the last to try and stay awake. But he was out of energy, and instinct seemed to kick in and he succumbed to slurping down the liquid in sleepy gulps. He'd comply for now...but later...later he'd...

"Good boy, good kind." Someone told him, he couldn't tell who it was.

The mixture did its job, and Steve could only manage a grumpy sounding noise into the Pacifier as it was tied on once more. Fletcher tucked him into bed on his belly and he snuffled into the pillow before falling asleep again.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was like he'd just disappeared off the face of the earth.

The Avengers had searched the rubble of Manhattan multiple times and checked all the hospitals in the surrounding area, but Cap was nowhere to be found.

"When you say...vanished-" Fury began.

"I mean vanished from the fucking face of the earth!" Tony Stark snapped leaning over the well polished desk to look the older man in the good eye. "We've looked everywhere, we've called him at least twenty times and he goes straight to voicemail and his apartment hasn't been lived in for days."

Fury scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Look Nick, Cap isn't the type to just go off someplace and not tell anyone where he'd going...something happened to him. I know it."

Fury narrowed his eye. It was a mystery.


	3. Chapter 3

_A week and a half later _

If the constant drugging didn't kill Steve, then the boredom might've.

He thanked the lord that he was either asleep or vacant for the majority of the day, and the times were he was awake and forced to stare at the dull four walls was kept to minimum by his captors. Of course, the downside was that it made formulating an escape plan next to impossible.

He didn't know what drugs they were using, but they sure did a number on him.

Another wonderful side effect to the stuff they were pumping into him, he couldn't think straight and the days merged into a blur of bottles, playtime, and sleep.

They had formed a routine now, and Steve knew what to expect.

In the morning he'd be gently shaken awake and fed his first bottle when he was too tired to object, yawning around it, then he'd sleep for a while, be fed again, have Heinrich come and torment him with baby talk and games for an hour or two, be fed again, sleep, another bottle then have a bedtime story then the final feed of the day and he'd be put to bed. It never varied, it never changed.

Steve was allowed some time to recover from the excessive amount of sleepy stuff they were giving him when he was being watched by Heinrich; it was undermined by having to 'play' with her.

It was like he was keeping her amused rather than the other way around. She'd lay him down on the carpet with his wrists and ankles bound, and straddle Steve; to guarantee he wouldn't escape.

The woman seemed to be positively tickled at the soldier's situation and took full advantage of her power over him. She would pinch his cheeks, run her fingers all over his sensitive tummy until he was making embarrassing noises into the dreaded pacifier, and force him into games of peek-a-boo which were just plan awkward as Steve would never give the correct responses.

She was deprived. This whole thing was deprived. He tried his best to just lay there and remain passive, not encouraging her in the least.

The baby babble was the worst though. The bottles were called "Bah-bahs", the pacifier was his "paci" or "sucker", he didn't go to sleep he "went sleepies" and their favourite pet names for him were "Kind" "Baby boy" and "Lamb". It was enough to make him vomit and he had a few choice words of his own he'd like to say to them and they were not nearly as innocent.

One afternoon when Heimrich was feeling _particularly _playful, she held him down as usual with her enhanced strength and held a bottle of milk over his head.

"C'mon Kind, what's this? Is it a bah-bah? Is it?" She cooed.

Steve bit hard on his gag and glowered at her, not in the mood for her childish games, she knew he couldn't really answer her anyway.

When he didn't respond she gave the skin of his stomach a sharp squeeze which made him yelp, he was prone to colic and belly aches due to the all dairy diet so this was very unpleasant.

Heinrich didn't shift from her position though. Instead she tittered at him and wriggled the pacifier, another habit she was fond off. "You have to start talking to us soon lamb." She said. "Otherwise how can I tell Da-da what a good boy you are?"

Steve's brow furrowed and he looked at her. Da-da? Did she mean Doctor Ackerman? Steve snorted; the day he'd call that man dad would be the day pigs would fly.

He curled his hands into fists as she continued to torment him, he didn't like to hit women but he wouldn't have minded giving this sadistic gal a black eye. But that's what they _wanted_, impulsive anger, for him to lose control of his emotions, then they could wheedle their way into his head.

Heinrich sniggered. "Don't be so grumpy baby boy! C'mon, smile for me." She grabbed his left foot and began to tickle his toes. He hated this so much.

Steve screwed up his face to stop any laugher coming from his mouth, but Heinrich wouldn't stop until she was rewarded with a loud hiccupy giggle from Steve, his chest vibrating with unwanted laugher.

She grinned in triumph then leaned over Steve to rub noises with him. "Who's a good baby? You are!" If Steve wasn't gasping for breath, he would've head butted her. He much preferred the chilly indifference of Fletcher than this craziness.

Heinrich then quickly got up and lifted Steve into her arms, it was an effort and she exhaled sharply. She was slightly smaller than her counterpart, but still pretty darn big.

Good, the soldier thought, he had no intention of making this any easier for her.

He was rocked gently in her arms as the ever present pacifier was removed and Steve licked his dry lips before being fed the latest "bah-bah". He huffed. If he was clever like Tony or Bruce he would've tried to figure out what was in the milk they kept giving him. But he wasn't smart and could only grumble and whinge around the bottle as his vision blurred.

"Nnnn,..na...na gonna.." he managed.

This was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong...

He felt weak for the first time since he'd been given the serum, what was the use of having such a gift only to be kept locked up, instead of out there helping people and leading the Avengers. He _had_ to get out this, somehow, someway.

He pulled his head away from the bottle as it was nearing half empty, Heinrich adjusted him in her arms and tried to feed him again but Steve kept turning his head into her shoulder and pushed her hand away with a free arm. The red haired woman scowled at him "What did Da-da say about misbehaviour?" she snarled. He tiredly narrowed his eyes at her then mumbled out using all his strength "b'te me..."

The look on her face was _priceless._

Heinrich all but dropped him onto the dresser and he winced as his back collided with the wood, she stormed out the door slamming it behind her. Leaving him all alone. Steve grinned for a moment, glad to not have the gag in but then was greeted by Fletcher with a face like thunder burst into the room with a smug looking Heinrich behind her. Like a tigress over a doomed animal, Fletcher placed her hands on the table and loomed over Steve, she then spoke in icy tones "so, you think you can talk back do you?"

Steve didn't have time to respond as Fletcher then proceeded to pull down his sweat pants, he cried out and tried to get away but Heinrich was behind him faster and held his neck with a vice grip in the crook of her arm. At his lower end Fletcher began to take off...oh sweet Jesus.

He had been wearing a _diaper._

Steve turned beet red and his cries were muffled by a new, cloth gag pulled tightly across his mouth. Fletcher paid him no heed and continued with her work, but it seemed painfully slow so Steve could see everything.

He'd goddam _wet his pants _without realising, but how? It had to have been the drugs, how could he not have felt anything?

Then he finally understood. Normally they'd do this when he was too drugged out to recall, but now they were making his watch, _this_ was his punishment.

He fought hot tears of shame in the corner of his eyes as the messy diaper was removed and Fletcher began to clean him up with a baby wipe. He made his skin crawl that these sick women were touching him there. He'd had very little sexual experience which made this ordeal so much worse.

He wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else; he'd go back in the ice if he could get away from here.

Heinrich held a hand in his hair tightly so he could even turn his head away. He had to see it all happen, he whimpered as some ointment was applied to his private area then a fresh diaper was slid under him and after what seemed like an eternity Fletcher was finished.

"That must feel so much better hmm?" she said lightly, wiping her hands.

Steve was too stupefied to answer; his face was wet with a few tears and his face was red with rage and shame. Heinrich's grip finally loosened and Steve let his head loll to one side.

He just wanted to go to sleep, to curl up in a dark place and never come out...how could they? He'd never forget this. But maybe that was the point.

He was then picked up by Fletcher who cradled him to her chest in a gesture of affection despite what had just happened.

"Now, Steven"

Not baby boy, or Kind, or Lamb but _Steven._ They'd never used his name before.

"Here's what will happen, you'll finish your bottle, and every bottle after that without fussing, you'll suck your paci, you'll play nicely with Henrietta and you'll be, very, _very _good for us." It was an order, not a suggestion.

Henrietta? That must've been Heinrich's first name.

"If not, then you'll be awake for all of your changes this week, and we'll let you go hungry. Do I make myself clear?" She gave him a harsh gaze.

Steve absorbed everything she said very carefully, she didn't seem like the type to make idle threats, and he got the impression that they gone _easy_ on him this time. He hated to think what Heinrich/Henrietta could come up with.

Fletcher then raised the half finished bottle and gave Steve a long look. He sighed, it was better to live another day, stay safe, that way the Avengers had longer to find him.

He finished the bah-bah as quickly as he could.

The liquid soothed him and for once he felt relieved when that sleepy feeling clouded his mind and he took the paci without complaint. There was a moment of waiting, before, with a gurgle it gently went up and down in Steve's mouth and he found his muscles relaxed at the motion.

"I accept your apology." Fletcher said in a hushed voice as she gently laid him down, as always, on his tummy in his crib. Henrietta giggled and cooed "Baby go sleepies, we'll see you in the morning." Then they left.

Steve was almost gone, but his eyes drifted backwards to see that they hadn't put his pants back on, leaving the diaper on show, It was a reminder. He tried not to think about it and went to sleep, suckling on the pacifier.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You were magnificent today ladies" preened Doctor Ackerman, sitting in his plush chair in his private study, the women sitting opposite him made him look dwarfed in comparison. "You handled the situation with diligence and control."

Henrietta took a long swig of her whiskey. "I could've _strangled_ that child today." She looked at her glass with dark eyes. "If he crosses me again-"

"Now, now Henny." Cut in Helga Fletcher, sipping her own drink delicately. "Save your psychopathic tendencies for helpless fluffy animals and NOT are most promising project to date."

Henrietta set her jaw then tilted her head back to finish her drink. "It's going to be a long few weeks..." she then smiled deviously. "But he's already starting to weaken, the poor thing started to cry when you changed him."

Her female counterpart made an Hmm noise of agreement. "Well. Why should we do him any favours if he's going to address you in such a rude manner?" She took another sip of her wine.

The Doctor chuckled. "I think we can all agree it's been a tiresome evening... but let's raise our glasses." He held his drink in the air. "To Schmitt! And Project Reincarnation!"

"Project Reincarnation!"


	4. Chapter 4

Steve had his first nightmare a few days later.

The serum meant he didn't need as much sleep as others did, and often at night he would find himself in the gym, watching a movie or just sitting on the roof gazing at the stars. Sometimes, he wouldn't be alone.

Tony might join him, as he had terribly irregular sleeping patterns from a combination of too much coffee and staying up late.

Clint had been sleeping funny ever since the Loki incident. He didn't like to talk about it.

All three had nightmares, but at least they had each other. They didn't talk about what they dreamed; they just quietly curled up on the couch and watched re runs of Friends until they fell asleep, or until morning.

Steve is cold. Freezing cold. The ice is coming.

It crawled up his leg like long icy tentacles and he cannot feel his foot anymore. It travels up his body faster than he can shake it off. He's in a plane, it's crashed, and its sinking into the water. The water's cold too, it's always cold. He can't breathe now. Its dark...It's so very cold...Peggy, Bucky, Howard, help help help...

He gasps awake, eyes suddenly open. His entire body was sticky with sweat; the nightmare was more vivid, more realistic than the ones he's used to. He couldn't think why that was, he couldn't think at all. His clothes clung to his skin and he found himself to be boiling hot. It was ironic, considering the narrative of his nightmare.

He's wasn't only scared, he was dazed and confused. He blinked at his surrounds, and familiar bars come into view. He was still here, for a moment, Steve hoped he'd imagined it.

He had been crying, his face was wet with tears and drool leaked from the sides of his mouth as he apparently tried to cry out but was stopped by the gag. He sniffled. Steve wanted out so badly, and he let out a stifled sob. He hated being alone.

Then the door opened suddenly, and Fletcher was suddenly leaning over him, look concerned. Steve didn't know if this was a good sign or a bad one.

She wasn't in her uniform, but rather a flowing nightgown and her hair was falling out of a loose bun tied behind her head. She'd clearly just woken up. Steve wondered whether he'd be punished for waking her up.

Instead, the woman gently wiped away the tears from his face with her thumb and mopped the drool from his mouth with a washcloth. She smelt faintly of lavender.

"Oh Kind..." She said softly, lifting him out of his bed slash prison and then sat down in a chair with him comfortably in her arms. Steve curled into the warm touch, not knowing any better in his doped up condition.

Fletcher apparently had a softer side, as she carefully tidied up his hair and spoke to him in motherly tones. She even sang to him in German, a slow lullaby that might've actually worked if Steve was a real baby. He wasn't, but it helped a little. The ice queen melteth.

The soldier had unease prickling inside of him. This was all part of their plan to indoctrinate him, to gain his trust by showing that they_ cared _about him, that they were going to look after him. The nightmare couldn't have been timed any better if they planned it. That was a thought; they could have easily slipped something extra in his bedtime drink. Ultimately, he was helpless to do anything about it.

Fletcher then produced another bottle, full to bursting with the laced mixture. Steve eyed it with groggy distaste, but he was too exhausted both emotionally and physically to complain, he'd rather just forget this happened. She slipped the midnight bottle in his mouth than began to rock back and forth in what Steve assumed was a rocking chair.

They stayed there for a long time. Steve was dimly reminded of his own mother, when she would comfort him during those long painful nights when he was a child. How caring she was, she tried her hardest to keep the sickest boy in Brooklyn alive, but also to make him feel loved.

Steve hadn't felt loved in a long time. Sure, he felt _appreciated_, since the invasion of New York he'd gotten nothing but praise from various sources. His team looked up to him, even Tony, who'd been determined to hate him. But that wasn't a substitute for what he'd lost, his mother...his father...god he missed them.

The chair made the floorboard's creek and the Soldier's tummy twinge a little. He should've been mortified but milk was cold, smooth and made him pleasantly calm.

"Ga." He garbled, starting to lose his sense of awareness and slip down into that dark but warm, and cosy place the sleepy stuff sent him.

As if Fletcher could understand him, she smiled her blue eyes soft and genuine when they were usually blank and hard. She manoeuvred him in her massive arms so that she could stroke his navel with her fingers. Steve wriggled, he was ticklish, and a hot flush crept up the back of his neck.

"No more nightmares." The blonde woman whispered, coaxing Steve to finish his feed, there was a lot of it, double the usual amount, mostly likely to make sure he slept right through any more bad dreams.

Steve didn't register much after that. Apart from flying through the air and finally settling down in the soft bedding of the crib, turning himself over to lie on his front; his favourite way to sleep. Then fingers prized his mouth apart and slipped in his pacifier.

"Gute Nacht, mein Kind." A velvety voice said above him.

"N'night..." he replied around the paci. It would've been rude not too.

As he suspected, Steve slept right through the remaining night and most of the morning. Despite his rough night, he felt surprisingly well rested when he awoke the next morning. He yawned, and then rubbed his eyes and nose, the plastic of the pacifier rubbing against his palm.

Then it clicked in Steve's brain and he looked at his hands.

The handcuffs were gone.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The search was massive.

Nearly every available SHEILD agent was drafted to help.

Natasha and Clint were responsible for surveillance of the likely suspects, keeping tabs on anyone who could have had access to Cap during the fight. Tony and The Hulk trekked up and down the state and the neighbouring states, looking for a sign, any sign at all. Thor went to Asgaurd, to seek the advice of his father and the all knowing mother.

Surely her wisdom would shed some light on the Captains disappearance.

The Avengers need some reassurance.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve's muscles were not accustomed to physical strain after weeks of lying on a bed.

His hands shook as he grasped the bars of the crib and hoisted himself up, at first; he fell right back down on his backside with a loud THUMB.

He waited for a moment, to see if anyone would come running, they didn't, so he persevered and managed to get over the bars before letting himself drop over the other side. He was panting, inside he was in despair over his lack of shape, months of army training and keeping fit were going to waste.

Still, he clenched his jaw and pushed himself up with both arms. Once he was sitting, he took a deep breath and very slowly got to his feet. It must've been the first time he'd stood up in a while, as he nearly buckled under his own weight and felt the need to be sick.

Steve swallowed it, clenched his jaw stubbornly, and took a shaky step forward. Then another, then another, he then unlocked the door as fast as he could manage. The door swung open, Steve was about to go but he remembered something. He undid the knot of the gag and spat it out with gusto and it landed feet away, sending a bit of spittle flying. Steve saw with some horror that it was coloured red, white and blue with a star in the middle. Not wanting to linger, the soldier then hobbled down the hall.

The damage done by the overuse of the dreaded drugs and no exercise became more and more apparent as Steve made his way towards...well, he really had no idea where he was going exactly. He just had to keep moving.

His mouth felt very strange with the absence of the pacifier, the inside of his mouth tasted _disgusting_. They hadn't thought to brush his teeth; Steve couldn't imagine what his breath must have been like. As far as he could remember, he hadn't bathed since before he was taken, so in all he must have reeked to high heaven.

The corridors looked identical, long narrow and grey with no windows. Maybe the base was somewhere underground? That would only make it harder for the Avengers to find him. Steve felt like he'd been walking slash running for ages and all he was doing was running deeper and deeper into the bowels of the place. It was strange that he'd heard no alarms, or run into any guards. Something didn't feel right.

Steve had to stop and take a breather; he had come to a fork in the corridor. It didn't really matter which way he took, but a hint as to where his journey would end would have been helpful. Then, like a gift from god, Steve noticed faded lettering on the wall of the left corridor; EXIT. He quickly sped into action again, using the last of his energy to run, his legs burning and sweat trickling from his forehead.

Steve finally crashed through a wooden door and landed on his face on a hard, cold surface. The light above was painfully bright, and he had to squint as he uneasily got to his feet. He wasn't outside. He was in another room. It was round and expansive, being at least three times as big as the room he'd been kept in. Steve growled in frustration and wanted to punch something. He'd gone through all that for nothing! He'd surely be taken back to his prison now, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. The soldier braced himself for battle, fists tight, senses perked, shoulders squared.

"Did you really think it would be so simple?" A hollow, crackling voice said from the ceiling.

Steve didn't reply.

"I'm surprised you managed to get so far without blacking out...but that's irrelevant. " The voice was familiar somehow, but was masked by the metallic sound of the speakers. "Henny and Helga were very upset that you tried to run away."

Helga? So, Fletcher had a first name too.

"They shouldn't have untied me then." Steve snipped, he hadn't spoken for a long time and his throat rumbled with discomfort.

"Tut-Tut-Tut, Such attitude will not be tolerated her Kind, I thought you would have learnt that by now."

"Don't call me that! You people are sick in the head! I'm _not_ a baby!" he couldn't take it anymore, everything that had been building up inside him had reached boiling point.

The voice chuckled. "And yet here you are, stomping for foot like a toddler, instead of escaping. Not that you can escape." Something seemed very amusing indeed, Steve finally registered it was Dr Ackerman's condescension he was hearing.

Steve felt raw. "Why am I here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Dr Ackerman snorted. "Don't be ignorant; you know why we brought you here. As to why you are here in this room, it was a test."

"A test?"

"Yes, to see how far you've come. I never expected the medicine to work so well, but you're already weaker, and your sense of direction has been warped. You ran in circles like a rat in a wheel before finding your way here." He laughed cruelly, Steve was breathing hard with anger. "Out of breath? Oh dear mien Kind, Better get you back to bed."

"Over my dead body" Spat Steve through clenched teeth. There was a loud hissing noise and a white gas began to flood the room like an early morning fog. Steve sprung into action immediately and frantically searched for a way out. He headed automatically towards the way he came in but the shattered door had been replaced by an impenetrable set of bars which slid over his escape route as soon as the gas started leaking from above. Keeping a hand over his mouth Steve felt the walls for any give, but they must've been solid steel. The gas curled around Steve's face like wispy white claws and the soldier began to feel woozy. Perhaps this was another form of whatever they put in the bottles.

Steve's resolve crumbled, and he swayed on his feet like a ship on a stormy sea; until eventually crashing onto the floor. The landing was painful, and Steve winced as he rolled onto his back.

"So...Lamb thinks he can run away does he?"

Someone was circling him, making the gas shift.

"Looks like he hasn't learned yet" the words were muffled; the person was probably wearing a gas mask.

Hands were under Steve's back and he was lifted into the arms of his caretakers. His face was cradled by a warm palm and fingers stroked his cheek and hair. He yawned.

Why...Why had he come here again?

The thick bulb of the pacifier was pushed into his mouth and Steve only made a small, wobbly whimper then settled into a rhythm of sucking. He was so very tired...

The motion of him being carried somewhere was enough to lull him into a sleep. He hoped he'd get a bottle after he woke up.


	6. Chapter 6

After Steve's escape attempt, things more or less went back to the usual routine.

At first, the nurses _did_ make their displeasure at his failed exodus known by cutting out his stories and playtime; leaving alone for most of the day. On top all that, there was a doubling of the quantity of formula he was fed.

As soon as Steve opened his mouth, a bottle was shoved in it. Drinking from the teat had become a matter of instinct now, so not a drop of the stuff was spilled.

They'd stretch the required amount of drug to put Steve to sleep into two or even three bottles, and the solider had no choice but to endure it. He was amazed he never threw up, as his stomach writhed uncomfortably and his pleading eyes and whimpers were ignored. To help with colic, he'd be patted on the back by either Henrietta or Helga until he hiccupped and burped.

They hardly talked to him, or rather at him, and even Henrietta seemed stoic in place of a bubbly yet somewhat psychotic demeanour. Steve was most defiantly in the bad books, and he didn't like it.

He imagined Stockholm syndrome would be creeping in by now, as he became less and less bothered about being treated like and infant. He was fine with the pacifier, and sucked it when he couldn't sleep or was upset.

This continued for a week until the two women announced that Steve wasn't 'grounded' anymore, and the interaction became much more friendly and relaxed. In fact, they seemed to be trying harder to make him feel more at ease whereas in the beginning his discomfort was blatantly ignored.

If he couldn't settle Helga would cuddle him in the rocking chair until he dozed off, they checked the temp of the room at regular intervals to make sure he wasn't too hot or too cold, and gently praised him when he finished his feeds.

Then, something new was introduced; Toys and solid food, the sudden change to Steve's rigid existence was exiting.

The toys were, not surprisingly, meant for babies and young children. The interactive ones were gaudy things made of brightly coloured plastic and some would light up and play music when you hit a button, sometimes, you'd get animal sounds, a woof, a moo, a cluck. Steve fingers and hands were enormous in comparison to the toys, and he could have easily smashed to pieces.

He preferred the softer playthings, blankets, plush animals, and one in particular caught his attention. It was an unassuming blue sock monkey, with dark button eyes and a stitched grin; it looked like something his mother could have made for him. That's what Steve liked about it. Lying on his back, he gently played its long arms and tail, imagining it swinging from a tree someplace. The nurses let him keep it in his crib where it watched over the soldier at night.

In his mind the monkey was his friend, and its name was Bucky.

Steve had wished for something other than bottled meals for weeks, some other taste, and some other texture than just creamy liquid.

One morning Helga gently lifted Steve from his crib and settled him on her hip, the change in height made his gage slightly; and he chose to hide his face in her huge shoulder. The massive doors he once tried to escape through were opened and Steve was gently bounced as he was carried down the hallway.

They made a few lefts, a few rights, and then came to another door which was guarded by two mean looking suckers who must've been Hydra infantry. Helga made small talk with one man as he opened the door and the other gently tickled Steve under the chin. Steve grunted and pulled away.

The door was slammed shut, and Steve took in the room before him. It was smaller than the gas chamber he'd been lead into previously, but was also bigger than his 'bedroom'. It was set up more or less like a kitchen, with wooden counter tops, an oven and various draws and cupboards. It was pretty Spartan compared to Steve's own personal kitchen back at Avengers tower.

The soldier swallowed and shut his eyes, trying not to think of his team.

There was also a modest wooden dining table with three chairs and at one end a blur highchair. Steve had no guesses where he was heading and he winced in embarrassment as he was locked into it; great, more restraints. It was big enough to accommodate Steve's bulk, so it had to have been custom made. He wriggled, uncomfortable.

Helga shushed him absentmindedly and stroked his check with her fingers and she leaned into one of the cupboards and pulled out a small jar of something, a bowl and spoon. The food in the jar was thick and mushy, and was a pale orange colour which reminded Steve of carrots.

The pacifier was untied and pulled from his mouth, and Steve took a moment just to enjoy that, stretching his mouth and licking his teeth. But soon the spoon was filled with the orange mush is pushed through his lips instead.

"Eat up Lamb, you'll get big and strong."Helga cooed, Steve wondered if she was being funny.

It was baby food and it tasted exactly how it looked; soggy and gross with a hint of carrot. He swallowed it with great effort, trying not to gag and mutely accepted about ten more spoonfuls before he's had enough. Instead of turning his head away, he spits the awful mush out and lets it dribble down his face onto the high chair he's been forced to sit in. 'If they want a baby, I'll be a baby' he thought.

Helga tutted impatiently and wiped his face roughly with a washcloth, but didn't feed him anymore baby food. She then cleared the surfaces and Steve was presented with something else; strawberries. They looked red, ripe and delicious.

Steve licked his lips and willingly opened his mouth to receive the fruit. The sweet juice took away the god awful taste of the baby food and he took a moment to savour it.

After the strawberries were all gone, Steve plucked up the courage to speak. "What do you get out of this?" he asked.

Helga was slowly wiping the highchair with a damp cloth; she showed no sign of hearing Steve's question. But he was undeterred.

"I get why Hydra want this. But you and your friend have to do the dirty work." He wasn't used to talking, and his voice was a bit dry.

Helga's cleaning slowed to a stop and she looked at Steve with a piercing gaze, she then dumped the cloth into the sink and lifted the young man out of the chair like he weighed nothing. She settled him into a comfortable position tucked against her chest.

"It's nice to look after a _kind_ again."

Steve blinks in response but before he can reply a bottle is put into his already open mouth. He almost rolls his eyes at the predictability of it but doesn't fight to stay awake as the milky liquid fills his belly and renders him helpless in sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: sorry it's so short, I've had University work to do...

The sense of hopelessness began to creep in as Steve's captivity approached its third month.

Steve just wasn't the type to quit, his stubbornness was legendary. But the feeling of normalcy hit him like a sledge hammer, this had become his life now...sleeping, feeding, and playing. He was starting to _forget _things, and in their place a blurry vagueness in his mind that made thinking difficult. It almost made the soldier want to stop thinking altogether.

And most of the days, that exactly what he did do. It didn't take any effort on his part to finish his bottle or suck his pacifier which became a matter of instinct now.

He was mortified at first when he slipped into sucking without really being aware of it; particularly when he was tired or stressed. The nurses seemed very please about this. "Like that _kind_?" Helga asked somewhat smugly, stroking his face, as she caught him working the object up and down furiously in his mouth. Steve stopped, flushing, and grumbled out "tired" as if it excused him.

One day, Steve was, as expected, lifted from his crib when he awoke from his morning nap to be fed. But this time Fletcher whispered to him in motherly tones "You've been very good for us Lamb, so today you have a choice, what would you like to drink?"

Choice? Steve had no choice anymore, his life was no longer his and he was doomed to have homicidal madmen make his decisions for him because he was only an infant, and didn't know any better.

"a-a..." Steve spluttered out, taking with the gag was difficult. "A-ap-ple joo..." he managed at last, squirming at the sound of his words. He sounded like a toddler just starting to talk. Spittle dribbled from the corners of his mouth.

Helga smiled softy at him. "Apple juice? Okay, I'll be back in a moment." She put Steve down gently on to the changing table and he wriggled awkwardly, he remembered what happened the last time he was put there, and he hoped Helga wouldn't be too long. He sucked his paci, trying to calm himself.

He let out a sigh when the woman returned, and with a big bottle of apple juice. He took it gratefully and drank it quickly; making little gulps of air every now and again. Fletcher patted his tummy and told him not to drink so fast.

"Ga?"

"Yes, _Kind_?"

"Bu..."

Gently rocking Steve, Helga reached into the crib and retrieved the precious sock monkey that had become Steve's constant companion. He reached for it with grabby hands and clutched the toy to his chest, feeling comforted by it. There was some pleasant rocking as Steve began to drift off again. He didn't fight the incoming sleep these days, what was the point? It was easier to let the mixture help send him off to a slumber that was deep and usually undisturbed.

Except for the occasional nightmare, yes, Steve still had those.

He curled in closer to Helga as she shushed him gently and stroked his hair, he liked that, she was surprisingly gentle despite her huge size and strength; especially now that she was sure he wasn't going anywhere.

That was another thing. The handcuffs had gone.

There was, apparently no need for them, and Steve was grateful for the return of his ability to rub his eyes and stretch.

Most days were still full of mindless infant activities, but the soldier didn't mind them so much now. Before, he was bored and frustrated, but now he seemed to be content with the simple nature of the toys and books read to him. He listened eagerly now, wanting to know what happened to the princess or the hero, did they find their true love? Did they defeat the evil dragon? In Steve's dreams, the dragons were green, and had long golden horns. The knight's armour was always red and gold and it shone beautifully in the sun. There was an archer too, the King's archer who never missed his target, and a beautiful maiden in a black cloak that was stealthy; she was a spy. Sometimes, a green monster, which people thought was mean and scary but who was really kind and gentle; would also appear. It rained a lot in his dreams, with thunder storms; a great giant with a hammer could control those storms.

Steve liked these dreams, they were good dreams.

Doctor Ackerman paid him a visit, but Steve didn't like him, he couldn't remember why, he just didn't. The Doctor smiled like a shark and his hands were cold and pokey as he felt Steve's muscles and checked his eyes, heart, and ears.

"Very good Kind, very good." Ackerman said and Steve shuffled away from him with his thumb lodged in his mouth; they had taken away his pacifier. The doctor grinned at him and patted the soldier's cheek.

"We are making good progress."


End file.
